


Kemal Sayre and the Dungeon of Dragons

by SupaSoulja_X



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Mosty Movie Cannon, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:39:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupaSoulja_X/pseuds/SupaSoulja_X
Summary: Well this story is about a boy/teen who saw his family killed, A man who gets dumped into HP before the main story begins, The aftereffects of War and its unpleasantness. Its also about balancing good, 'the greater good', what's right and what's healthy. Yes also bad ass wizards dropping magic in epic duels. It will be following Movie cannon mostly because I'm not reading Harry Potter, got too much else to do in real life.





	Kemal Sayre and the Dungeon of Dragons

September 12, 1978  
Jersey Shore

The scene was something out of a Weird West dc comic meets Mike Hammer novel meets Back to the Future bad dream. In fact it was a nightmare, one I somehow knew I had had before.

The sky was dark and there was a half moon casting eerie light over the East Jersey Skyline. For some reason I was a teen looking at my parents sappy pda with a mix of deep affection and mild disgust. They were mindful to avoid more than light petting in the presence of me and my slightly older sister, who actually did a mock vomit motion. I noted how much detail was involved in the dream; the exaggerated follow up kiss my 'parents' proceeded with included. To my right was a humongous though high quality television. I turned to my left and noticed the clunky museum piece in our living room with the ancient mouse, 'hard disk' drive and 4 foot castle tower. Something informed me the dinosaur was an IBM 55SX and it was in fact state of the art and one of my father’s prize possessions.

The girl, Sandra was about 2 shades darker in hue than myself and considerably lighter than my mother. Said well formed and still fit middle aged woman called herself Aisha Red Bear (nee Almanzar). George, the deep chocolate 7 foot man who she was wrapped around, was flashing his pearly white teeth, creating a lovely contrast in his face by the light of our fireplace. After a minute they tired of squicking out me and my sister and turned to us with innocent looking faces. I decided to find a way to punish Sandra for provoking them and making me witness such horrors yet again.

Outside my parent's tonsil warfare it was a perfect post dinner repast for our upper middle class family. Too bad it was ruined by the sound of muffled air displacement. My father was the first to react telling me and my sister to go to our rooms. As a family of mixed southern/ West Indian culture we knew better than to dawdle and practically vanished up the stairs. Of course we were peeking from the corner of the second story loft and I suspect our parents realized that fact. No sooner had we taken our hiding places than the there was a harmonious yet insistent serious of knocks.

Who would visit our home after 8 pm? That same sense informed me that my parents were not going to like our visitors. Prior to his opening the door, I remembered the sound of my father's irate voice as my mother entered the kitchen. She likely was preparing some light finger foods and drinks; hospitality to any guest was something both of my cultures though highly of after all.

"I told you MACUSA folks the last time, I'm not interested in sending my children to your institution. Especially not with this..." He did not get to finish because he was in shock. A voice I never heard before answered.

"I can assure you we do not represent those spineless worms Mr. Red Bear." That voice was gentile, gentile in way my parents would never ascribe to imitate. It wasn't just proper, but it dripped of an arrogance that border lined on psychopathic contempt for those beneath its owner in ‘social status’.

"In fact we have come to provide you with an offer, one that will permanently keep those fools from hounding your door forever. Please allow us to partake of your hospitality for a few moments and I assure you won't regret it". My father must have caught the undertone of menace but there had to be a good reason he allowed them into our home.

The 3 masked men and 1 woman walked into our living room; their pitch black robes moving with enough swagger to make Donald Trump blanche in shame. After they sat down my mother walked into view carrying a tray of finger sandwiches and asked them if they wanted refreshments. The faux genteel man politely asked for glasses of whatever alcoholic beverage they would care to offer. The way he said it implied that he did not think it would be worthy of their pallets. My father's face was stone, but I knew his moods and he was barely containing his anger. Such behavior was typically addressed to people of color and it always left its mark; though these predators would consider Mike Wallace just as beneath their feet as he would a black sharecropper.

My father did not rise to their bait and provided them with a bottle of 20 year old Chardonnay. We could afford it and we prided ourselves on hospitality, especially when we had a point to prove. My sister, who was following their conversation with me smirked and jostled me. +That'll show those snobs something+ was a thought that passed between us just as clearly as if we had spoken the words. We were closer than most siblings, and ever since we each passed age 10 we were able to communicate with each other like that, well as long as we were within 300 feet of each other. At first it was my sister sharing thoughts with me slyly for a few years. I was jealous until I could do it too; everything seemed perfect.

That was how it started anyway. Then came the breaking of chandelier when I was not within 3 feet of it, an instant small fire and a flock of birds that keep circling sis. That last one got us noticed by some lady called Professor Matilda Killgrave from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My father wasn't all that surprised though, it would seem that my family had occasionally demonstrated magical talent. However, this branch of the Red Bear clan never had and mostly abandoned the magical world alongside alot of our Wampanoag culture 7 generations ago.

They had talked about the dangers of become obscuras and suppressed magic. My father listened to them and rebutted their offers with his knowledge of the dangers of being what would amount to muggleborn in world suffering yet another Wizarding War with some unknown supremacist dark lord. My child's mind thought it cool to fight the powers of darkness and I made the mistake of saying so to my father. After receiving a hiding for eavesdropping he explained to me that war was not a joke or game. He then gave me a run down of how my uncle had died in WW1 and his and my mothers experiences in the military. In the end I and my sister were given some exercises to release our magic without casting spells so that we wouldn't hurt ourselves. After that we never did spells again but we decided to keep our psionic communication to ourselves. Every six months around the same time some MACUSA folks would come by for another go under the guise of checking up on us.

These 'gentlemen' were nothing like the MACUSA folks. For one they were somehow both extremely tackily dressed while obviously wearing costly clothes. Mom and dad said that came from wizards having more money than brains. Secondly these men were barely containing their disgust at our presence. If they had such a feelings for our parents why would they want us? Why would they think we would want to be treated that way? Dad tried to shelter us from race prejudice and the 1970's South Jersey was not Birmingham during the Freedom Rides Era. However, we knew that no matter how much money a person of color had he or she would have to prove they were every bit as entitled to the respect the laws of society said were. Dad said that the 'magic' world was free of race and sex discrimination but the attitudes these people displayed were no different from those we saw from other rich white people for our kind. In fact these 4 looked even more rich and powerful than some of the worst mean spirited idiots my dad had to work with.

"Well, I can admit when I'm wrong sir. You have excellent taste in wine and your wife's culinary skills surpasses most house elves". He put his fine crystal goblet down. I could almost sense my father's sense of ease return. I couldn't send or receive his or mom's thoughts but I could read their aura's better than a stranger's. "Of course any member of Gormaith's bloodline would have some level of exemplary qualities regardless of their magical disability". And now the anger returned to him.

"I apologize if my attitude comes across as impolite as your sudden company is quite welcome, but I and my family are quite tired and would like to retire for the evening. Would it possible for us to cut to the chase Mr.."

"Alas Mr. Red Bear formal introductions and wearing disguises do not go hand in hand. You may call me Mr. Mort for the duration of our conversation and I believe I can accommodate you if you desire brevity". Wearing masks, dark robes and pressure tactics were bad enough, but calling yourself death in front of a man married to a French Caribbean person was pushing credibility. My dad had tried to keep me and my sister unaware of the Wizards War but we both knew who these men were here representing.

"The answer is no. We are not joining any side, in fact my children won’t be learning magic at all." He stared at Mr. Mort. My father was going to try using reason with magic Neo Nazis. "There is no logical reason for you or those MACUSA people to continue to ask. First, my children are untrained and too young to fight. By the time they are even remotely capable of defending themselves this war will be over, regardless of who thinks they can win. Your group is resource heavy, but people short. Do you really have the time and personnel to actually babysit and train 2 young people when you need every body for active combat and espionage?

Secondly, neither I or my wife are wizards which makes my children mud bloods by your own code, despite their 'superior' heritage. Exactly what kind of treatment could they expect from your superiors that would incline them to support you? Does your code allow you to make exemptions, even for half bloods and anyone else you feel you need? If so why bother with all the blood purity propaganda and just operate on a might makes right platform and call it day?

Third, you failed to understand the culture of the people you want to recruit. While the magic world has moved beyond race hate and sexism my family is from this world. They aren't impressionable babies or toddlers, but have their own minds. None of us accept discrimination easily and what you are preaching frankly sounds like the Klu Klux Klan and Nazis; and we are black people. There is no way my children are going along with it.

At least Grindenwald preached equality of all human mages. Frankly why your group decided to cut off people who might actually join your world domination plan doesn't make sense. There's a lot wrong with the world and making people equal is a better pitch than concentrations camps in the dictatorship race. Go ask Moa and Stalin.

Did it never occur to you that a bunch of muggleborns would sell you out to the muggles? I mean they dont have much to lose and humans have made some seriously deadly weapons in the last hundred years. I don't know if your boss can breath sarin gas, but I know I wouldn't like to have an angry muggle born magic some into my bathroom while I was showering.

Finally, even if you used your brain washing spell to get me and my wife to give you our kids what good would it do? They wouldn't believe I just let them go off with you to play master race. Sure you could use the spell on them as well, but then you would have 2 more incompetents you need to babysit and have to worry about what they will do when the spell wears off. I also doubt they would have enough initiative to make good propaganda.

My family isn't going anywhere and I am not letting MACUSA turn my children into target practice by going to their school. I remind you that by the time they are old enough to even think about joining a side this war will be long over. Hurting people who aren't opposing you doesn't give your faction any benefit. So you see the best thing you can do for your Dark Lord is to finish your drinks and leave like the gentlemen and lady you were raised to be in good form". My father's face was still as he finished and I could see that the four were paying him apt attention. For a minute none spoke and perhaps they would leave in peace.

"Mr. Red Bear that was a speech worthy of a Slytherin. I truly wish that your ancestor had not been a Squib for you would be welcome among us. Unfortunately it isn't up to me, otherwise I would leave you and your progeny to rot among these sheep. I was told to give you one more chance to allow your children to share in our glorious destiny. As you said, most mudbloods don't get that chance and would be lucky to live long enough to be janitors. In truth the house of Gaunt is almost extinct and Martha didn't have children. My orders were not to return without them." My father attempted to speak but the masked man waved his hand and spoke "Silencio". I turned to my sister but she had already left. I had a bad feeling I knew where this was going, but was powerless to stop or change anything.

"I think your golden tongue has eaten enough of our time. I would have simply given you a sum of gold and allowed you occasional contact with your children. Its possible we could have used you as hostages against the other's good behavior. However, since you are obviously against us logic dictates you will join Dumbldore's side to get your children back. He has a soft spot for muggles. Thus we must send him a message. Don't worry we wont hurt your children, their blood is too valuable. There are ways to mold them that will leave them functional, at least functional enough to serve our needs". His cruel smile could be felt even behind the white mask. I knew what came next, but I could not turn away.

My father brave to the end rose from his seat, threw a dinner plate at the woman on the far end of the table and attempted to stab 'Mort' with a dinner fork in the throat. The plate smashed into the unprepared witche's face. None had thought to restrain my father, thinking he was scared shitless. Had they bothered to research our culture they would have known once Mor't guaranteed his children's lives there was nothing stopping him. Mort however, was of better quality than his underlings and knew wandless magic. My father was thrown back into his chair and three dark wizards uttered "Avada Kedavra". It was overkill for one middle aged father of 2, but his death did serve one purpose. It distracted them from my mother's entry from the kitchen with a Ithaca Mag-10 - Wikipedia. Her scream of rage was almost as loud as the retorts of the semi automatic shotgun.

A wand is fast, and a prepared wizard can deal with the average gun hand easily. Usually, by not being in front of the gun user. However, when said gun wielder is an ex army combat nurse who had been training with her weapon in preparation for this moment for the last 2 years and has the drop on you its a different story. Wandless magic man got his shield up, and the witch hit the deck. The other two were not so lucky, One ate 2 rounds to his chest and the other received buckshot that ricocheted off Mort's shield and around his. Fortunately, I heard but did not see Mort's spell work drop my mother to the floor.

"That's it, take the children and lets get out of here before anything else goes wrong!"

"Carrow, help me. I got hit in the gut".

"What did I tell you about using names in the field Crabbe? You know the spell for removing metal, If I have to do it.. Oh damnit. Goyle deal with the brats, remember stunners only". I heard some latin sounding words and screams. The next minute the slightly pudgy woman was walking up the steps. I couldn't move for some reason. When she reached the top of the stair well she quickly spotted me. She had removed her mask and I could see her face had a beak like nose and her teeth were yellow. She snared at me with her wand pointed in my direction and a curse on her lips. My sister had picked that moment to reappear wielding my dad's service M1911 Colt pistol. He had taken her to the shooting range more often than me, as she was older.

Goyle attempted to readjust her aim, but I sent out the one magic trick I could muster. I gathered all the anger, hate and noise I could and directed it at her mind. It was enough to disorient her while Sandra placed 5 neat holes in Goyle's center mass. There were no one liners or pithy comments, my father taught us to handle our tasks effectively and with no fuss. We then each stood together and waited.

+I wish I had thought of that when dad made his move+

+Or mom+

+Stay sharp, only 1 left. When you see him blast him and I'll finish it+ She must have felt my resolve breaking because she took a moment to flash me love.

+Cry later, We end this together then we finish the rest of them+. I flashed my agreement.

We had the stairwell covered, there was no way for Mort to approach the stairwell before I could see him. At this range my sister wouldn't miss and I was angry enough to knock him off his game to give her the first shot.

Of course The last functional Death Eater had to be competent. He apparated right behind us. Apparently the deaths of his cronies to muggles and half grown mudbloods made him forget his own words. I had just enough time to notice my sister fly across the room and hit the wall with speed. The crack following the impact told me she wasn't getting up again, ever.

The rage I felt fueled my mental assault against Mort, who took all of 3 second to smack me down like a wet puppy. I collapsed on the ground almost insensate.

"Damn. Well I only need 1 of you and a boy is better anyway. Save your rage child it will serve you and Lord Voldemort well." Now I had both a headache and the name of the man I wanted to kill, well after Mort/Carrow. Its almost a shame that I wouldn't get the chance.

For at that time the 'cavalry' arrived. It seemed that MACUSA had been working with Dumbldore's Order of the Phoenix. Knowing that the Death Eaters would arrive they had set up an alarm my mother could trigger in case of emergency. Now before Carrow/Mort stood Mad Eye Moody in his prime. The battle was not long and its outcome should not have surprised me in the least. Three spells later Carrow/Mort was laying along side me on the ground. Though I was the only one ever getting up again.

I wiped the blood running down my nose with my hand while dragging myself to Carrow. I ripped the mask from his face and stared into his eyes. His face looked like the stereotypical pale blonde Targaryeans, probably just as inbred if what I gleamed from MACUSA was true. I looked up to see Crabbe apparated between 3 aurors, clutching his gut and moving his lips. I was able to walk and I moved towards him, If I could have sent a mental bolt I would have, but I could barely walk.

He looked at me and paled. Before the worms attached to his jaw could move again I had driven my 14 year old fist into his jaw, kicked him in his wounded stomach three times and his groin twice. I was summarily pulled off him by Moody who just realized I couldn't hear him, as my ears were ruptured and bleeding.

Moody held me until I stopped thrashing and slowly placed his wand on my forehead and each ear. He held me with his hand on each of my shoulders. "Son, I know its not a consolation but its over".

In the background the aurors could be heard. "These Yanks love their guns don't they?". "Shit, the Eaters picked on the wrong fucking no maj family for a change". "See that bugger. That's how the muggles feel when you lot show up". Crabbe was moaning and weeping on the ground; his wounds had re opened and he had pissed himself. After a minute an auror reclosed them and stunned him for good measure and to stop his wailing.

Moody kept a grip on me while turning around, knowing I might well kill someone with the mood I was in. "The boy's family is gone, show some respect". They quieted down. No one wanted to be on the wrong side of that auror. 

"Son, we can help you" he said somewhat awkwardly.

"I'm not your son white man. My name is Kemal Red Bear. Your faction used my family as bait, I wonder why. And now they're gone. Don't tell me how you are going to help me when you are loosing the war. In fact tell me why I should trust you?"

Mad Eye looked me in the eye carefully. "My name is Auror Alastor Moody. I apologize for any disrespect I have offered you Mr. Red Bear. I won't lie to you. Things look bad, but we haven't given up. As to why you should trust me and come with us to a safer location; I think you can tell which group of wizards doesn't want to murder you or turn you into cult assassin".

I looked at my family. "I need to bury them".

"They will be taken care of. In fact they will be sent somewhere and you can choose how to honor them. Is that alright?"

"So long as they are no where near those scum, I have no disagreements".

I awoke with sweat pouring down my face.


End file.
